


what was left behind (futuristic sci-fi au remix)

by Gerec



Series: Remixes [14]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Androids, Charles has Cybernetic Legs, Cybernetics, Erik is an Android, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: Dr. Charles F. Xavier wakes from cryo sleep in an unfamiliar room, having suffered serious injuries from the crash that killed three of the seven crew members of their ship, the SSV Blackbird. His rescuer - tall, handsome and a human male in appearance - introduces himself as 'Erik', and has rather startling news to share with a disbelieving Xavier...





	what was left behind (futuristic sci-fi au remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikeracity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeracity/gifts).
  * Inspired by [tumblr ficlets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284727) by [ikeracity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeracity/pseuds/ikeracity). 



> Inspired by Chapter 16: Charles comes out of cryo to find something unexpected.

When next he woke Charles found himself in a different room than where he’d first regained consciousness from cryogenic sleep, tucked under the downy covers of a proper bed. Though much larger than the first it was still sparse and utilitarian in design, and reminded him of the crew quarters on the Blackbird; all sleek chrome and metal alloys, though it lacked the relative warmth of his own little cabin, littered as it was with the clutter of a well lived-in space.

He felt a pang of longing then, for the ship that had been their home for the past four years, and grief for the people lost in the crash – Summers, their helmsman and resident card shark; Munoz, their navigator and co-pilot, and sometimes the only bit of sanity in their crazy crew of misfits; and Shaw, fellow scientist, arrogant prick, and the Alliance’s most renowned expert in nanotechnology and robotics.

Idly he wondered what Shaw would think, if he knew that his insistence on hitching a ride with Charles’ team to Arcturus Station would lead to his own untimely demise.

Charles shook his head; there was no point dwelling on the ‘what ifs’ when he had more urgent matters to consider and mysteries to unravel. How had their ship gone so off course as to cross far beyond the borders of Alliance space? What was the likelihood that they would crash land on _Earth_ of all planets, when their ancestral home was more myth than history now to the generations that grew up among the stars? And how could there still be androids in existence, when the Last War that drove humankind to abandon Earth had ostensibly wiped out their most stalwart defenders?

It was enough to make Charles dizzy, and he was relieved to find that his head no longer hurt, though the same could not be said for the dull ache in his chest and the broken bone in his left arm that had to be reset. Luckily, the damage to his cybernetic limbs had apparently been easy to repair, so he had no trouble getting out of bed and onto his feet, eager as he was to get some much needed answers. He took a deep breath and then marveled at the act of it; Charles was breathing the same air as his great grand-parents, and the generations upon generations before _them_ , on this tiny blue dot that was the birthplace for their entire species.

It was incredibly humbling, and stirred in Charles the same innate thirst for knowledge that had gotten him rather too often into trouble back home.

Something across the room caught his eye, and Charles’ breath lodged in his throat when he realized what he was seeing; there were shelves upon shelves full of books along one wall – actual books made of _paper,_ something Charles had only ever seen in archival pictures – hermetically sealed behind a thick pane of glass. He yearned desperately to hold one in his hand; to run his fingers along the edges of each page and feel the weight of it, reading words printed not on a screen but on something solid and tangible to the touch. Who did these treasures belong to? Did they belong to Erik, the android who had treated his wounds and nursed him back to health? Were these his quarters? And did that mean he had given Charles his own bed?

Yet more questions than answers, he thought, running his finger against the cool glass, pressing as close as he dared to try and read the lettering along the spines. He noticed too that there were more than just books stored within the enclosed space; Charles could see paintings on canvas as well as various artifacts of wood or porcelain – all materials that didn’t exist on any of the planets that formed the Alliance. It was a veritable treasure trove of Earth history, preserved in a condition that Charles didn’t think was possible, given humanity’s departure well over two hundred and fifty years ago.

Curiosity flooded through Charles as he scanned the items again; why did Erik – if he was indeed the collection’s owner – choose to keep these things and in such excellent condition? Did he feel anything at all, when he read a book of love poems or gazed upon the brushstrokes showing yellow flowers in the sun? Was he truly capable of experiencing real emotions like happiness? Frustration? Even anger? As the androids in his grandmother’s old tales did, when they lived amongst the humans in the days before the Last War?

His thoughts drifted again to their first meeting, and to Erik’s near perfect form; of the eerie stillness in which the android held himself at all times, or the crisp coolness of his oddly accented voice. His eyes were both a revelation and a wonder, a vast network of circuitry almost hidden behind the preternatural steel-blue, masking an intelligence far beyond the scope of any human mind…

Yes Charles was utterly fascinated by Erik’s mere existence, for the creation of androids had been banned since the days of the mass exodus, and he had never even glimpsed one, not even within the great archives that stored the sum total of Earth’s history.

As though he were summoned by Charles’ musings the bell chimed a moment later and the door slid open, revealing the object of his intense interest. Erik waited patiently for Charles to wave him in, before crossing the room with slow, confident strides and setting the silver tray he carried onto the desk beside the bed.

“Dr. Xavier, it’s good to see you awake and on your feet. How do you feel?”

Charles stretched his good arm and tested the clench of his fist, and then smiled at the familiar clicking sound when he curled his mechanical toes. “I feel much better, thank you. I didn’t get a chance earlier, to thank you for your help. You have my gratitude – you and yours – for saving our lives.”

“You’re very welcome, Dr. Xavier–”

“Charles, please.”

Erik smiled – just the slightest quirk of his lips – and Charles wondered if all androids were built to be this physically attractive. “Charles then. You’re very welcome. It’s been a long time since we’ve had any visitors here. And even longer since we’ve met any new humans.”

For some reason it surprised him, the news that others had come before. “Who else would come here? Earth is well outside the boundaries of Alliance space, and until now I’d thought – long deserted and abandoned?”

He was pinned with a look that was almost sardonic, if Charles didn’t think it was an unlikely emotion for an android to express. “If you thought Earth was uninhabited than so did many others. There were pirates mostly, seeking a safe place to hide out from authorities. Salvagers and adventure seekers too, who came looking for treasure and artifacts, even against the laws of your Alliance.”

Charles had never heard of any such activity, though he supposed the Council wouldn’t care to spread the news of any illegal operations, and risk inadvertently inciting others to do the same. “What happened to them?”

“We corrected their supposition,” Erik replied, the words clipped and even, “and facilitated their permanent departure from our home.”

Then he beckoned for Charles to come closer, and gently guided him into the chair by the bed. There was a bowl of something delicious smelling and piping hot on the tray before him, and Charles was instantly distracted, his stomach growling in response.

“I thought you might want something more solid than supplements, now that you’re fully awake,” Erik said softly, handing the spoon to Charles with a slight flourish. “We were unable to salvage any rations from your ship. Luckily, we keep a garden here, so I had the ingredients to make a passable potato soup.”

“A garden?” Charles gasped, “Does this mean that you actually have to eat to sustain yourself? Do you have a working digestive tract that allows your body to process food and convert it into—”

“No.” Erik gave him a bemused look and then tapped two long, tapered fingers to the side of his head. “Though there are organic components to my composition, I am fundamentally a machine. We do not need to breathe, or eat, or sleep as humans do. By design we are meant to be…enduring.”

“Oh.” Charles felt a bit foolish at his hasty assumption, and gave Erik a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry. My sister is always telling me to stop thinking out loud and just blurting things out…I hope you’re not upset with my questions.”

Erik shook his head, and motioned for Charles to taste his soup. “I’m not,” he answered, and gave another almost smile when Charles took a spoonful and then groaned in delight, marveling at both the taste and texture of something so completely alien and new. “Is it sufficiently edible?”

“It’s delicious,” Charles said, and began digging into his meal rather shamelessly. He found that he could not stop staring at his rescuer as he ate, a million questions running through his head. Why did Erik and the others bother with the trappings of humanity – growing food, wearing clothing, or keeping up the systems and networks built by their creators? When they’ve had many hundreds of years now to find their own path and evolve beyond their original programming? Why did they never reach out to the Alliance, and let it be known that some of them had survived the Last War?

And just how closely did androids truly resemble humans, as artificial beings built in their image? Did they know what it was to love? To hate? Or have any need for companionship?

His stomach fluttered just a little, as he considered Erik’s…anatomy or lack thereof, though he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came; it was ridiculous to think a machine – even a sentient one – would have been deliberately designed to have reproductive parts that served no function.

“Do I look so very different to you?” Erik asked, as he sat down on the bed. “From humans?”

Charles startled. “No, why do you ask?”

“You’re staring rather intently at me,” Erik noted, though his tone was as even as ever, completely devoid of judgement or discomfort. Even so, Charles was mortified at being so obvious with his assessment, and hurried to explain.

“No, in fact the resemblance is remarkable. It’s only your eyes that give it away…though perhaps even that’s not totally true. You see, cybernetics are rather common now for Alliance citizens, both to address a disability or to simply enhance their strength or their reflexes. So you could pass quite easily as a blind man who’d received a new pair of cybernetic eyes. No, it’s just…” Charles hesitated for a moment and let out a huff of breath. “I find you fascinating, Erik. Everything about you intrigues me.”

Erik nodded. “I understand. You find androids fascinating, because you have never seen one.” Then he added with another slight quirk of his lips, “I find you fascinating as well, though I have seen many humans since my activation.”

“Oh.” Charles fought the urge to blush, because Erik obviously didn’t mean the words to be anything but a straight observation. He turned his attention back to his soup, and continued eating diligently until it was finished. 

“May I ask you a question, Erik?”

“Please do.”

“Why do you have a garden? Or know how to make soup if you and the others don’t need food?”

Erik folded both hands in his lap, and watched Charles fidget for a few moments before he answered. “I suppose it’s what you humans would call a ‘habit’. We grow and build and tend to the environment around us, as we’ve been programmed to do since our inception. We have long, perfect memories. And nothing but time.”

That sounded rather sad, and maybe slightly ominous, and Charles instinctively reached out and grasped one of Erik’s hands. “Well, my crew and I are grateful that you’re here, and that you found us and saved us from the crash. You know, I’ve always been told that the entire android population was wiped out during the Last War. That’s why they banned the creation of new androids in Alliance space; because an entire sentient species sacrificed themselves so our ancestors could escape. It would be unethical, to create more androids, knowing the same thing could happen again.”

Erik’s reply was soft as he stared unerringly into Charles’ eyes. “Is that what they told you, Charles? That we chose to stay behind?” 

“Yes?”  
  
For long moments Erik said nothing, and then he simply stood and headed towards the door. 

Charles scrambled to his feet. “Erik, what—”

“Rest now,” Erik interjected, as he paused at the threshold and turned his steady, unblinking gaze on a bewildered Charles. “Tomorrow I’ll take you to see Ms. Darkholme, Dr. McCoy and Captain MacTaggert. And then…there are things I would like to show you. Things that might shed some light on your Alliance, and the true nature of the Last War.”

“Wait, what do you mean—”

Erik didn’t answer, and the door slid closed behind him with the softest click.


End file.
